What You Reflect is Ruining Me
by majesticllamas
Summary: Alfred F. Jones used to be happy and carefree. However, that all changes and he takes a turn for the worse, realizing how painfully large he is. He succumbs to anorexia, bulimia, and self harm, resulting in the one person he cares about the most leaving him. -trigger warning for eating disorders and self harm- Oneshot


Alfred F. Jones didn't know quite exactly when he had succumbed to an eating disorder that would come to ruin his body and his mind, anorexia., but he did know why. In the most recent part of his life he had come to befriend a small group of people. And in his special group of friends, he was always the largest. His friends teased him jokingly, calling him the fattest of the group. For a while it didn't mean that much to him, because he was too focused on trying to win over his longtime crush, otherwise known as Arthur Kirkland.

However, once he _somehow_ managed to snag hold of Arthur, things took a turn for the worse. He was no longer distracted quite as much, knowing that his feelings were returned, and when his friends would call him those things, he smiled along but on the inside he was being torn to shreds. Even in the confines of their own shared apartment, Arthur would call Alfred chunky. He said that it was adorable, but Alfred again only smiled along, allowing Arthur to believe that nothing was wrong.

It was after that point, it seemed, that he began to stop eating-slowly dwindling his regular intake of food, and then diminishing it completely. He had always found some kind of excuse for not eating. _I had to go out for a bit; I was at the gym; I had to go help an old friend with something._

However, after only a few weeks, Arthur finally confronted him about his lack of consumption. Alfred tried to brush it off, but Arthur was persistent and in tears. He sighed as he admitted that he had not been eating.

Arthur made him swear that he would cut out the nonsense, get back into the real world, and eat again. "After all," he had said with a chuckle., "you aren't a high school girl, for God's sake."

And at that point, something struck straight through Alfred's heart. His hurting heart. His diminishing heart. His _fat_ heart.

~

A week later, Arthur was no longer concerned with Alfred's eating problem. He's supervised him consume three meals a day, and that was good enough for him.

"Hey Alfred, I'm aching for something to eat. Something sweet and delicious." His tone almost screamed 'desperate for sex', for Alfred had stopped doing anything remotely sexual because he was so self conscious recently.

Alfred sighed as he heaved himself up and off of the couch. "You want a candy bar or something?" he said as he made his way to the door, shrugging on his winter jacket, not looking at Arthur even once.

Arthur sighed as he sunk down into the couch and under a large blanket and muttered out a, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

~

As he ran to the bathroom of the gas station, his mind was in a torrent. Alfred slammed the door shut and locked it as quickly as he could. He blindly ran his way into a familiar stall and commenced in throwing up every last ounce of nourishment in his stomach, and then some. The acidic taste of his own stomach was present as he spit it out while shaking with uncontrollable sobs. No matter how much he forced himself to vomit, it was never enough. He had to keep going. The acid was a flame that licked up and down his esophagus, catching it on fire and causing it to burn with despair.

He would stop only when his body would stop expelling any matter whatsoever. He ultimately collapsed to the floor of the bathroom, curling into a ball, tears streaming down his seemingly emotionless face.

Alfred felt better. Relieved. Like a void had been removed from his very essence. He picked himself up off of the floor with a lingering taste in his mouth-the literal taste of no turning back and the taste of self loathing. His stomach roared, missing the food it so desperately needed. Demanding that it needed more. Alfred only looked down at himself, frowned, then looked up and into the mirror.

He gasped loudly, for he couldn't believe what he saw staring back at him.

An even fatter beast. A pitifully obese monster out for food and only food. As he stared into this person's eyes, his vision became blurred and then nearly wiped out completely. He was crying. Not sobbing, but crying in the most simple of terms. Tears trickled down his face that was bulging with fat and dripped onto his nearly unnoticeable collarbone.

He thought of Arthur, then. How he would be worrying. Alfred quickly cleaned himself up, attempted to regain a somewhat composed disposition, unlocked the door, and walked out of the bathroom.

The aisles and aisles of junk food and candy were staring at him as soon as he emerged. They were pleading with him. Begging him to buy them and eat them up. Alfred was a mess, having an internal battle with _candy_. He forced his way through one aisle, looking down at the floor the whole time. He grabbed the first thing he could reach and went to the cashier's counter.

Alfred looked up, expressionless. The cashier was a young woman who probably weighed at most one hundred pounds. His eyes suddenly glimmered with jealousy.

"Is that all for you, sir?" she said, looking at the lone candy bar and then smirking up at Alfred with almost painfully blue eyes.

He replied with the affirmative, payed, and began to walk away when he heard an almost whisper of, "As if he needs that candy... He's big enough already," followed by a small giggle.

Alfred clenched his teeth as tears began to slide down his face, his fat face, his broken face. He collapsed into his car and drove home, his face becoming paler by the minute as snow gently found its way to the ground in the night.

~

Crimson poured from Alfred's mouth with the same intensity as it streamed out of his wrists. He shut his eyes and wanted to cry. But he was no longer capable of crying anymore. The blood dripped solemnly, staining the white snow.

~

"What in the world took you so damn long?" Arthur demanded as he stood up suddenly when he heard the door fly open. He crossed his arms, expecting a good answer.

"Line was long. Sorry. Here's your 'something sweet.'" Alfred tossed the candy at Arthur and began making his way upstairs.

"Alfred," he heard from behind him. "I'm admitting you to a recovery center. You need to stop this and you need to stop now. I can't deal with you anymore."

Alfred's face was still painfully calm. No emotion whatsoever flashed through his mind. All that he replied with was, "You can't make me."

~

But he could. And he did. Arthur managed to very easily pick up the bony Alfred and carry him into his car. Alfred had tried to put up a fight, but he was just too weak. He eventually passed out in the car from all of the strain put on his body.

~

Arthur admitted him into some awful place where they force you to give up your habits and addictions, said goodbye, and _left_, never to return.

~

A week later, Alfred was getting semi-proper nutrition and was not allowed near any sharp things. There were cameras in the bathrooms, much to his displeasure.

However, the cameras wouldn't stop him from going to the mirror each day and just looking at himself-seeing himself as fat as ever. Still, his emotions would occasionally let out, and he would cry. Bawl, even.

And then one day, as he stood there, knees quaking terribly, he said to the mirror gently, voice shaking with woe, "Mirror, mirror, can't you see? What you reflect is ruining me..."


End file.
